| I wish I was by that dim lake
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| Where sinful souls their farewells take
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| Of this vain world, and half-way lie
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| In Death’s cold shadow, ere they die
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| There, there, far from thee
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| Deceitful world, my home should be
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| Where, come what might of gloom and pain
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| False hope should ne’er deceive again!
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| The lifeless sky, the mournful sound
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| Of unseen waters, falling round
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| The dry leaves quivering o’er my head
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| Like man, unquiet even when dead
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| These, ay, these should wean
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| My soul from Life’s deluding scene
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| And turn each thought, each wish I have
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| Like willows, downward towards the grave
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| As they who to their couch at night
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| Would welcome sleep, first quench the light
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| So must the hopes that keep this breast
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| Awake, be quenched, ere it can rest
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| Cold, cold, my heart must grow
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| Unchanged by either joy or woe
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| Like freezing founts, where all that’s thrown
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| Within their current turns to stone |